Over the course of the last few years, I've gotten a number of requests to talk about how I got over my bulimia. I've always shied away from that conversation because while I know how I learned to stop taking wine to bed and get through my life without being stoned, I still don't know how it is that I came to stop using toothbrushes to empty entire grocery bags of food from my stomach into my studio apartment toilet.
Yikes. Relatable. I’m sweating & embarrassed & relieved all at once. This shit is harder to write about than any drunk-a-log. Big ups @holly. Brutally honest.
I was bulimic for two years in my early 20s. It was the absolute worst. What stopped it for me was the same thing that brought me to start following you (& eventually joining Tempest) with my drinking: sheer exhaustion. It was EXHAUSTING to keep up with it. It was exhausting to never really know when I was truly hungry because of the way I confused my poor body. And, just like drinking, it was something I did just on weekends and then it began creeping into my week. I couldn't handle it anymore. I signed up for a study at Columbia University and remember crying to the grad student at the intake. I never allowed myself to cry for most of my life. I was at my wit's end. I just stopped. Speaking to the student during my weekly meetings for that study helped me somewhat, but i never really figured out the "why" until years later in therapy working out some insecurity, self-loathing, "never good enough" feelings that traced back to ... tw... being sexually molested as a child. Something I had blocked out for many, many years. (PS: Sorry I'm commenting on things ALL LATE but I joined recently!!!)
Yikes. Relatable. I’m sweating & embarrassed & relieved all at once. This shit is harder to write about than any drunk-a-log. Big ups @holly. Brutally honest.
I was bulimic for two years in my early 20s. It was the absolute worst. What stopped it for me was the same thing that brought me to start following you (& eventually joining Tempest) with my drinking: sheer exhaustion. It was EXHAUSTING to keep up with it. It was exhausting to never really know when I was truly hungry because of the way I confused my poor body. And, just like drinking, it was something I did just on weekends and then it began creeping into my week. I couldn't handle it anymore. I signed up for a study at Columbia University and remember crying to the grad student at the intake. I never allowed myself to cry for most of my life. I was at my wit's end. I just stopped. Speaking to the student during my weekly meetings for that study helped me somewhat, but i never really figured out the "why" until years later in therapy working out some insecurity, self-loathing, "never good enough" feelings that traced back to ... tw... being sexually molested as a child. Something I had blocked out for many, many years. (PS: Sorry I'm commenting on things ALL LATE but I joined recently!!!)